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BULLETIN  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  WASHINGTON 


INAUGURAL  ADDRESSES  NO.  2. 


HISTORY  AND  THE  FINE  ARTS 

AN  INAUGURAL  LECTURE 

DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  REGENTS  AND  FACULTY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF  WASHINGTON  MARCH  11.  1910 


BY 


OLIVER  HUNTINGTON  RICHARDSON,  PH.  D. 


ON  THE  OCCASION  OF  HIS  INSTALLATION  AS 
PROFESSOR  OF  EUROPEAN  HISTORY 


SEATTLE,  WASHINGTON 
1910 


ENTERED  AS  SECOND  CLASS  MATTER 
AT  THE  POST  OFFICE  AT  SEATTLE,  WASHINGTON 


r 


History  and  The  Fine  Arts 


A few  generations  ago  the  chief  interest  of  the  historian  was  political;  at 
present,  with  truer  aim,  he  seeks  to  discover  those  more  recondite,  and  fre- 
quently impersonal  forces,  which  lie  behind  politics  and  dominate  society.  To 
this  end  he  is  utilizing  the  results  of  economic  and  sociological  investigation;  for 
the  more  remote  periods  and  for  the  less  civilized  races  he  draws  upon  archaeol- 
ogy, philology  and  anthropology;  physchology  is  becoming  more  and  more  nec- 
essary to  him;  and  comparative  jurisprudence  is  aiding  his  institutional  re- 
searches. With  these  investigations  I am  heartily  in  sympathy;  I appreciate 
their  necessity,  their  progressiveness,  and  the  resulting  gains  in  depth  of  knowl- 
edge and  precision  of  historical  technique.  These  studies,  however,  have 
tempted  some  writers  to  eliminate  the  human  element  in  history  unduly  and  to 
cultivate  an  inhuman  detachment  in  its  presentation.  But  since  history  results 
from  the  interplay  of  personal  with  impersonal  forces,  and  is  the  record  of  human 
action  and  of  thought  in  its  direct  influence  on  action,  the  historian  should  not  be 
unmindful  of  the  movement  of  ideas.  He  must,  therefore,  in  the  future,  as  in  the 
past,  cultivate  the  study  of  literature  and  the  fine  arts,  the  most  adequate 
expression  of  the  subtler  spiritual  and  intellectual  forces  which  have  moulded 
human  life.  Thus  only  can  he  gain  the  human  point  of  view  and  the  power  of 
sympathetic  interpretation. 

My  purpose  in  this  address  is  three-fold: 

First,  to  emphasize  the  utility  for  historical  purposes  of  certain  classes  of 
material — the  purely  literary  or  artistic — which  the  documentary  historian  is 
liable  to  overlook  or  deliberately  neglect.  Their  employment  is  not  congenial 
to  him,  for  their  primary  interest  lies  in  an  alien  field,  and  that,  too,  one  which 
demands  unusual  aesthetic  and  emotional  capacity  as  well  as  purely  intellectual. 
Nor  are  they  susceptible  of  strictly  scientific  treatment.  The  subjective  element, 
the  personal  equation,  is  too  great,  both  on  the  part  of  the  original  producer  and 
of  the  historical  critic.  It  is  especially  difficult  to  estimate  the  artificial  effect  of 
purely  literary  form.  And  yet  the  use  of  these  materials  is  both  legitimate 
and  necessary,  justifiable  on  theoretical  as  well  as  practical  grounds. 

Secondly,  I desire  to  show  that  while,  on  the  one  hand,  the  application  of 
the  historical  method  to  literature,  science,  philosophy  and  art  is  indispensable 
to  the  proper  understanding  of  those  subjects,  so  conversely  the  inclusion  of 
scientific,  literary  and  artistic  data  is  indispensable  to  the  fullest  comprehension 
of  history — not  merely 

“To  point  a moral  or  adorn  a tale” 

but  to  grasp  the  essential  spirit  as  distinguished  from  the  facts  which  are  its 
external  manifestations. 

Thirdly,  I shall  attempt  to  characterize  certain  historical  epochs,  the 
Middle  Ages,  Renaissance  and  Catholic  Reformation,  partly  for  the  sake  of 
the  characterization  as  such,  partly  to  demonstrate  the  underlying  unity  of  his- 


2 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


tory,  showing  how  one  epoch  springs  from  another,  yet  is  differentiated  from  it, 
but  chiefly  as  an  illustrative  exercise,  to  call  attention  to  the  “human  docu- 
ments” of  various  kinds  which  best  reveal  their  spirit.  And 

/.  Value  of  the  Historical  Method  as  Applied  to  Literature , Science  and 

Philosophy. 

I was  first  led  to  appreciate  the  value  of  historical  method  as  applied  to 
these  various  subjects  through  the  influence  of  Hettner’s  Ceschichte  der  deutschen 
Litter atur  im  Achtzehnten  Jahrhundert  and  the  philosophical  and  literary  writings 
of  the  late  Professor  Kuno  Fischer. 

For  our  present  purpose  the  chief  feature  of  interest  in  Hettner’s  work  is 
his  mode  of  presentation.  First,  he  describes  the  political  conditions  which 
furnish  the  historical  background  of  each  literary  epoch.  Next  follows  a state- 
ent  of  prevalent  conditions,  methods  and  forms  of  thought  in  natural  science 
and  philosophy.  Having  thus  exhibited  the  principal  tendencies  which  affect 
literature  and  which  literature  reflects  in  form,  content  and  ideal,  he  proceeds 
to  develop  his  main  theme,  literature  itself,  treated  in  substance  and  as  an  evolu- 
tion. Finally  he  sketches  the  state  of  the  arts  and  of  music,  showing  how  the 
same  tendencies  which  are  at  work  in  politics,  science,  philosophy  and  literature 
color  the  aesthetics  of  the  period.  As  a result,  the  work  reveals  the  great  value 
of  the  application  of  the  historical  method  and  artistic  illustration  to  the  field 
of  literature.  Each  age  stands  out  in  bold  relief  as  an  age  possessing  certain 
characteristic  features  and  fundamental  unities.  To  the  work  of  individual  au- 
thors is  given  a deeper  meaning,  for  each  one  finds  his  own  peculiar  place  in 
the  development  both  of  literary  form  and  of  human  thought.  His  work 
ceases  to  be  purely  personal  and  local ; it  becomes  universal,  in  the  highest  degree 
human  and  humanizing.  Consider,  for  example,  in  the  light  of  history,  the 
speech,  in  that  wonderful  tragedy  of  Marlowe’s,  of  the  Good  Angel  to  Faustus, 
“the  incarnation  of  the  Renaissance  thirst  for  knowledge  even  at  the  risk  of  the 
soul”: 

“Q  thou  hast  lost  celestial  happiness 
Pleasures  unspeakable,  bliss  without  end. 

Hadst  thou  affected  sweet  divinity 

Hell,  or  the  devil,  had  had  no  power  on  thee!” 

A sentence  like  this  is  not  personal:  it  is  age  speaking  unto  age,  and  the 
tragedy  of  Faustus  is  not  a personal  tragedy,  but  the  collision  of  the  Renais- 
sance with  the  medieval  world.  Truly,  as  has  been  said,  “Without  literature, 
history  is  shorn  of  its  life  and  color;  without  history,  literature  is  shorn  of  its 
strength !” 

In  like  manner  Kuno  Fischer’s  works,  particularly  his  Einleitung  in  die 
Ceschichte  der  neueren  Philosophic , impressed  upon  my  mind  the  great  advant- 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


3 


age  gained  by  literature  and  philosophy  from  the  use  of  historical  method  and 
the  inclusion  of  literary  and  historical  material.  Abstract  thought  was  vitalized 
and  even  metaphysical  abstractions  obtained  “a  local  habitation  and  a name.” 
Philosophical  problems  and  the  achievements  of  natural  science  acquired  a 
fuller  meaning  when  they  were  brought  into  their  human  and  historical  con- 
nections. Kepler’s  laws  of  planetary  motion,  for  example,  received  a new  sig- 
nificance when  they  appeared  as  part  and  parcel  of  a scientific  evolution  which 
was  destined  to  attack  the  entire  local  and  sensuous  basis  of  medieval  theological 
doctrine.  It  became  startlingly  apparent  that  the  results  of  great  movements 
are  never  confined  to  one  particular  sphere. 

This  brief  analysis  of  the  results  of  the  application  of  historical  method 
to  literature,  philosophy  and  science  has  made  it  clear  that  added  significance 
is  thereby  given  to  each  line  of  work.  Whether  consciously  or  unconsciously 
employed,  the  historical  method  supplies  the  only  means  of  testing  progress. 
Developments  in  each  sphere  of  activity  occasion  developments  in  others,  but 
without  the  application  of  the  historical  method  this  could  never  be  perceived. 

Reversing  the  process,  I proceed  to  discuss 

//.  The  Necessity  and  Value  of  the  Inclusion  of  Science , Literature  and  Art 

in  History. 

Among  American  historians  the  late  Herbert  Baxter  Adams,  Professor  of 
History  at  Johns  Hopkins  University  and  chief  founder  of  the  American  His- 
torical Association,  was  pre-eminent  in  the  catholicity  of  his  interests  and  in  his 
talent  for  both  discovering  and  stimulating  capacity  in  young  men.  It  is  to  him 
that  such  men  of  light  and  leading  as  President  Woodrow  Wilson,  Professor 
Jameson  of  the  Carnegie  Institution  and  the  American  Historical  Review,  Albert 
Shaw  of  the  Review  of  Reviews,  Professors  Haskins  and  Turner  of  the  his- 
torical department  at  Harvard,  and  Professor  Vincent  of  Johns  Hopkins,  owe 
either  their  initial  impetus,  or  later  stimulation,  to  scientific  pursuits.  Professor 
Adams’  whole  career,  by  precept  and  example,  attests  the  value  to  the  historian 
of  literary  and  artistic  studies.  Some  three  years  before  his  death,  he  thus 
recorded  his  early  formative  experience:  ‘‘In  Germany  * * * I devoted 

myself  to  the  study  of  history  in  a broad  and  liberalizing  way.  I endeavored 
to  become  acquainted  with  great  chapters  of  human  experience  in  ancient, 
medieval  and  modern  society.  * * * Every  semester  I followed  a course 

of  lectures  in  some  branch  of  philosophy  and  in  some  field  of  art  history.  The 
subjects  of  German  and  English  literature  had  also  their  attractions.  Most  in- 
spiring were  frequent  visits  to  the  art  museums,  * * * under  the  guidance 

of  * * * eminent  men.  * * * It  was  training  in  art  and  archaeology, 

but  it  was  also  historical  training,  for,  as  Hermann  Grimm  used  to  say,  ‘Art  is 
the  very  flower  of  history.*  * * * The  art  idea  for  historical  and  educational* 

purposes  ought  to  be  cultivated  in  every  institution  of  learning,’*  a sentiment 
which  I heartily  endorse. 


4 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


History  is  as  wide,  territorially  and  chronologically,  as  the  records  of 
man’s  existence  on  earth.  It  includes  in  its  scope  all  fields  of  human  endeavor, 
in  so  far  as  these  affect  or  manifest  the  actions  of  men.  Theoretically,  therefore, 
the  inclusion  of  artistic  and  scientific  data  is  not  only  justifiable,  but  necessary. 
The  necessity  is  also  practical.  This  appears  with  peculiar  clearness  to  the 
author  or  instructor  who  is  not  concerned  with  the  bare  presentation  of  facts 
(related,  unrelated,  or  obscurely  related),  but  who  endeavors  to  portray  the 
spirit  of  an  age,  to  gauge  the  power  of  a spiritual  force,  to  descry  the  subtler 
agencies  at  work  and  the  subtler  forms  of  expression.  The  necessity  is  brought 
more  closely  home,  when,  in  small  space,  he  attempts  to  present  the  essential 
characteristics  of  an  historical  epoch.  The  full  force  of  the  necessity  is  felt, 
when  he  reflects  that  the  result  of  great  movements  is  never  simple,  confined  to 
one  sphere,  but  always  complex,  influencing  others.  The  interrelation  of  the 
Renaissance  and  Reformation  affords  a striking  illustration.  In  each  of  the 
movements  which  I now  describe,  a double  set  of  effects  will  be  noted:  one, 
limited  to  the  particular  field  in  question;  the  other  affecting,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, the  course  of  the  religious  Reformation. 

The  literary  Renaissance  dealt  primarily  with  philological  science;  but 
the  Hebrew  Grammar  of  Reuchlin  and  the  Critical  New  Testament  of  Erasmus 
afforded  a purer  Biblical  text,  the  indispensable  prerequisite  to  the  Lutheran 
Reformation.  The  same  movement  produced  a secular  view  of  life  which  di- 
minished the  authority  of  the  clergy,  undermined  ecclesiastical  ideas  and  ideals, 
and  laid  the  intellectual  foundations  of  a new  religious  epoch.  Meanwhile,  the 
development  of  historical  method  and  the  study  of  patristic  literature  were  leading 
men  to  attempt  the  reconstruction  of  primitive  Christianity. 

The  artistic  Renaissance  was  a movement  technically  artistic;  but  it  in- 
volved the  redemption  of  art  from  purely  ecclesiastical  trammels,  the  substitution 
of  aesthetic  for  religious  interests,  and  the  elaboration  of  natural  and  anti-eccles- 
iastical  ideals.  As  Heine  says,  “The  painters  of  Italy  carried  on  a polemic 
against  clericalism  perhaps  far  more  effectually  than  the  Saxon  theologians. 
The  glowing  flesh  in  the  pictures  of  Titian  is  all  Protestantism.  The  hips  of  his 
Venus  are  far  deeper  theses  than  those  which  the  German  monk  nailed  to  the 
church  door  of  Wittenberg.’’ 

The  philosophical  Renaissance  was  primarily  a search  for  mundane  truth, 
the  reconquest  of  the  ideal  of  knowledge  for  its  own  sake ; it  involved,  however, 
ihe  discovery  of  new  standards  of  truth,  i.  e.,  other  than  theological,  and  con- 
sequently issued  in  the  overthrow  of  the  medieval  ecclesiastical  philosophy,  and, 
in  one  phase  at  least — Giordano  Bruno — it  assumed  the  form  of  pantheism  and 
the  deification  of  nature. 

The  geographical  Renaissance  was  primarily  the  exploration  of  the  globe 
in  the  interests  of  commerce;  but  it  necessarily  involved  an  attack  on  patristic 
geography  and  hence  on  orthodox  theology.  Its  political  effects  in  the  religious 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


5 


sphere  were  no  less  marked.  Spain,  for  example,  enriched  by  the  treasures  of 
Peru  and  Mexico  and  traffic  with  the  Indies,  was  enabled  to  exercise  ari 
influence  in  the  stormy  days  of  the  Catholic  Reformation  altogether  dispropor- 
tionate to  her  European  wealth  and  population.  It  also  completed  an  economic 
revolution.  If  it  be  true,  as  Ranke  declares,  that  “the  greatest  event  that  meets 
us  in  the  whole  course  of  authentic  history  is  the  fact  that  the  seats  of  the  pre- 
dominant power  and  culture  have  been  transplanted  to  the  Western  lands  and 
the  shores  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean,”  this  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  few  de- 
cisive moments  in  the  annals  of  the  human  race.  For  it  is  in  the  regions  chiefly 
affected  in  the  way  of  progress — the  shores  of  the  Channel,  the  North  Sea  and 
the  Baltic — that  mankind  has  been  slowly  working  out,  throughout  the  modern 
era,  its  fundamental  religious,  intellectual  and  social  problems.  And  still  ever 
westward  the  Star  of  Empire  takes  its  way. 

The  cosmographical  Renaissance  was  primarily  the  scientific  study  of 
astronomy;  but  it  involved  the  elaboration  of  scientific  method,  and  when 

Copernicus  “placed  the  sun  upon  the  throne  of  the  universe,”  he  was  at  the 

same  time  beginning  the  first  great  duel  between  modern  science  and  dogmatic 
theology.  He  attacked,  and  his  successors  overthrew,  the  whole  local  and 
sensuous  basis  of  medieval  Catholic  doctrine  as  based  on  Ptolemy  and  Aris- 
totle and  enshrined  in  the  scholastic  philosophy.  Contemporaries  believed  that 
“his  pretended  discovery  vitiated  the  entire  Christian  plan  of  salvation”;  and 
Protestant  and  Catholic  were  alike  zealous  against  this  new  and  godless  scien- 
tific doctrine. 

Literature  and  art  are  subject,  then,  to  the  great  rule  laid  down.  They 

produce  or  illustrate  action  outside  of  their  own  respective  spheres,  and  must, 

therefore,  be  included  in  the  realm  of  history.  They  must  be  utilized  also  be- 
cause of  their  inspirational  value.  If  it  be  true  that  “it  is  as  much  the  function 
of  the  historian  to  vivify  as  to  verify  history,”  they  offer  the  best  means  to  this 
end.  Both  are  emotional,  passionate,  offspring  of  the  creative  imagination:  they 
are  therefore  peculiarly  fitted  to  kindle  the  historical,  or  re-creative  imagination, 
and  beget  that  dramatic  power  and  insight  without  which  no  historian  can  reach 
the  summit  of  his  art. 

Their  substantive  value  is  equally  apparent.  In  one  sense,  every  piece  of 
literature  is  an  historical  source,  and  not  infrequently  has  literature  been  the 
source  of  historical  action.  Architecture,  too,  has  made  as  well  as  illustrated 
history.  It  was  partly  because  of  her  direct  heritage  from  Rome  that  Italy 
became  the  parent  of  the  Renaissance.  Italy  was  not  dependent  for  her  inspira- 
tion upon  literature  alone;  in  her  midst  lay  visible  and  tangible  memorials  of  the 
classic  past — coins,  statues,  columns,  triumphal  arches,  tombs  and  temples — 
mighty  mementos  of  a mighty  race,  for  the  untutored  mind  perpetual  abodes 
of  myth  and  legend,  but  perennial  source  of  light  to  the  investigator.  Paintings 
are  often  illustrative  of  history  and  historical  ideas.  Portraits  need  no  mention; 


6 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


the  likenesses  of  great  men  who  represent  great  ideas  or  historical  forces  per- 
sonify their  studies  or  their  deeds.  The  accessories  of  paintings  are  an  index  to 
civilization.  They  portray  utensils,  costumes,  weapons,  the  humours  of  an  age — 
its  amusements  and  serious  pursuits — styles  of  architecture,  the  state  of  scientific 
knowledge,  the  arts  of  war  and  peace.  It  is  a collection  of  the  paintings  ot  an* 
age  which  best  exhibits  its  prevailing  spirit:  secular  pictures  predominate  in  a 
worldly  age;  ecclesiastical  paintings  in  an  age  ecclesiastical.  The  basis  of  Ital- 
ian art,  to  take  an  example,  was  medieval  asceticism : such  beauty  as  the  earliest 
specimens  possess  is  beauty  of  spirit,  not  form;  they  depict,  says  Mr.  Lilly, 
“the  sufferings  of  heroes  of  religion,  faithful  unto  death  and  receiving  the 
crown  of  life.”  Painting  was  in  the  service  of  the  church  and  portrayed  re- 
ligious subjects.  The  later  change  in  art  attests  a change  of  spirit  and  sym- 
bolizes it  unconsciously. 

The  other  arts  in  like  manner  contribute  to  historical  knowledge,  sculpture 
and  music  among  them.  Coins  and  medals  with  effigies,  dates  and  inscriptions 
may  have  unique  historical  value.  What  a world  of  grim  humor  and  disdain 
finds  expression  in  the  medal  struck  by  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  to  commemo- 
rate the  disgraceful  flight  of  Peter  the  Great  at  Narva:  “And  Peter  went  out 
and  wept  bitterly” ! 

History  and  the  arts  maintain  a reciprocal  relation.  The  arts  contribute 
to  history,  but  history  is  required  for  the  interpretation  of  the  arts.  Literature 
gives  to  history,  directly  or  inferentially,  about  as  much  as  it  receives;  the  arts 
demand  more,  as  a rule,  than  they  yield  in  return.  This  is  especially  true  of 
such  works  as  embody  abstract  ideas. 

III.  The  Characterization  of  Certain  Historical  Epochs — The  Middle  Ages, 
Renaissance,  and  Catholic  Reformation,  With  a View  to 
Subsequent  Literary  and  Artistic  Illustration. 

History  reveals  the  comparative  progress  or  retrogression  of  the  human 
race  in  civilization  and  culture.  It  is  therefore  natural  for  the  historian  to  mark 
cff  great  epochs  in  history.  These  divisions  are  arbitrarily  chosen,  yet  are  nec- 
essary for  convenience ; they  are  misleading,  yet  justifiable,  because  there  actually 
exist  broad  distinctions  between  ages,  as  between  midday  and  midnight.  Each 
age  has  an  atmosphere  of  its  own,  by  which  it  may  be  distinguished  from  that 
which  follows  or  precedes  it.  Such  is  the  case  with  the  period  called  the 
Renaissance.  Sharply  contrasting  with  medieval  conditions,  it  is  yet  an  out- 
growth from  them.  A concise  view  of  the  state  of  Europe  at  the  height  of 
the  Middle  Ages  makes  this  fact  apparent.  First,  it  appears  that  this  period 
possesses  an  individuality  of  its  own  which  contrasts  sharply  with  the  succeeding 
age,  its  offspring,  the  Era  of  the  Renaissance.  Secondly,  that  the  height  of 
the  Middle  Ages  is  best  characterized  by  the  citation  of  an  ecclesiastical  institu- 
tion, the  Empire  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages,  a politico-ecclesiastical  movement, 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


7 


the  Crusades,  and  a dominant  system  of  philosophy.  Scholasticism.  These  three 
parallel  phenomena  synchronize  exactly.  Nor  is  this  coincidence  in  dates  ac- 
cidental; the  interconnection  of  the  movements  is  essential.  All  three  are  char- 
acteristic of  an  age  of  the  world  in  which  the  ecclesiastical  principle  is  the  highest 
principle,  faith  is  superior  to  reason,  and  a cosmopolitan  conception  of  a united 
Christendom  is  in  the  ascendant.  Cosmopolitan  ideas  of  world-church  and 
world-empire  are  accepted,  while  nations  (and  national  churches)  have  as  yet 
no  self-conscious  existence.  That  a cosmopolitan  conception  of  the  brotherhood 
of  man  prevails  as  an  active  force  in  life  is  shown  both  by  the  Crusades,  a uni- 
versal politico-religious  movement,  and  by  the  existence  of  chivalry,  an  institu- 
tion with  religious  sanctions,  in  which,  for  example,  French  knight  and  German 
knight  are  bound  together  in  a community  of  feeling  far  closer  and  more  sym- 
pathetic than  exists  between  a German  knight  and  a German  peasant. 

Let  me  now  demonstrate  these  propositions  and  contrast  them  with  the 
spirit  of  the  next  succeeding  age,  the  era  of  the  Renaissance. 

And  first,  the  Crusades.  The  Crusades  are  a movement  typical  of  an 
ecclesiastical  age  of  the  world,  an  age  of  faith,  therefore  sharply  in  contrast 
with  the  rationalistic  and  secular  spirit  of  the  Renaissance.  They  were  based 
upon  religious  motives,  armed  pilgrimages,  organized  by  the  Popes,  the  spiritual 
heads  of  Christendom,  for  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  And  yet — 
they  aimed  at  a shadow,  for  reason  would  have  told  their  participants,  in  words 
cf  Holy  Writ,  “He  is  not  here.  He  is  risen !***  The  Crusades  are  also  typical 
of  an  age  in  which  strongly-marked  nationalities  are  non-existent — sharply  con- 
trasted, therefore,  with  the  nationalistic  developments  of  the  political  Renais- 
sance. And  yet  the  Renaissance  is,  in  part,  a natural  outgrowth  of  the  cru- 
sading movement,  owing  to  its  stimulation  of  intellectual  and  commercial  devel- 
opments which  were  already  under  way. 

The  Empire  Church,  again,  was  a Church  typical  of  an  ecclesiastical  age 
of  the  world.  It  claimed  universal  power,  temporal  as  well  as  spiritual;  popes 
dethroned  kings,  and  churchmen  governed  states.  Its  organization  respected  no 
boundary  lines;  it  was  an  international  world-state,  ruled  by  one  monarch  and 
possessing  elaborate  systems  of  appeal  and  taxation.  As  the  most  important 
single  institution  in  existence  at  the  height  of  the  Middle  Ages,  it  must  be  re- 
garded as  also  the  most  characteristic.  Absolutely  remote  from  the  national 
church  idea,  and  allowing  the  individual  no  appeal  from  her  authority, 
yet  the  Empire  Church  is  indissolubly  linked  to  the  Renaissance  and  Reforma- 
tion: to  the  latter  through  vain  attempts  to  reform  its  abuses;  to  the  former, 
through  the  philosophy  and  theology  which  it  sanctioned,  viz..  Scholasticism. 

Like  the  Crusades  and  the  Empire  Church,  Scholasticism  is  typical  of  an 
ecclesiastical  age  of  the  world:  it  contrasts  therefore  sharply  with  the  Renais- 


* Archer  and  Kingsford,  Story  of  the  Crusades. 


6 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


sance  and  yet  is  a phase  of  intellectual  development  preliminary  to  it.  Schol- 
asticism has  been  defined  as  rational  theology  under  the  control  of  the  Church. 
It  was  a mode  of  truth-seeking  which  sought  to  reconcile  revelation  and  reason, 
faith  and  science.  It  resulted  in  the  formulation  of  systems  of  universal  knowl- 
edge, based  on  facts  accepted  by  the  Church  and  arranged  in  logical  order. 
Scholasticism  is  the  blood  relative  of  the  Empire  Church.  The  Fathers  of  the 
Church,  says  Kuno  Fischer,  established  both  the  faith  of  the  Church  and  faith 
in  the  Church.  “Fie  cannot  have  God  for  his  father,  who  has  not  the  Church 
for  his  mother.”  “Outside  the  Church  is  no  salvation.”  This  is  the  basis  of 
the  power  of  the  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  source  of  its  consciousness  of 
unconditional  supremacy.  The  Church  becomes  the  sole  ladder  between  earth 
and  heaven;  the  hierarchy  reaches  from  earth  to  God.  Subordinate  to  the 
Kingdom  in  heaven,  is  the  Church  on  earth ; subordinate  to  the  Church  on  earth 
is  the  secular  Empire  on  earth ; subordinate  to  theology,  learning  divine,  is  secular 
learning,  philosophy.  Even  the  form  of  Scholasticism  corresponds  to  the  form  of 
the  Empire  Church.  The  organization  of  the  Church  was  systematic  and 
hierarchical;  the  arrangement  of  dogma  must  be  so  also.  The  Fathers  of  the 
Church  are  therefore  succeeded  by  the  Doctors  of  the  Church  (the  founders, 
that  is,  by  the  expounders  of  dogma),  and  these  construct  a system  in  conso- 
nance with  Church  requirements.  What  could  be  more  harmonious  than  the 
rigid  employment  of  the  syllogistic  form  and  method? 

Scholasticism  is  at  once  the  deadly  enemy  and  the  progenitor  of  the  Re- 
naissance; its  enemy,  because  it  bound  knowledge  with  chains  of  matter  and 
method;  its  progenitor,  because  it  “introduced  into  the  world  the  principle  of 
the  thinking  spirit,”  and  thereby  became  itself  “the  first  movement  of  the  Age 
of  the  Renaissance,  its  prediction  and  introduction.” 

Literature,  then,  manifests  in  form  and  substance  the  dominant  character- 
istics of  the  Middle  Ages,  for,  rightly  considered,  the  scholastic  philosophy  is 
the  great  literary  illustration  of  medieval  life.  Knowledge  is  disseminated  by 
the  clergy:  monks  are  the  medieval  chroniclers;  miracle-plays  and  mysteries  are 
the  medieval  dramas ; Hrotsuit,  the  nun  of  Gandersheim,  wrote  biblical  comedies 
to  displace  the  popularity  of  those  of  Terence. 

The  height  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  the  golden  age  of  monasticism.  The 
Knights  Templar  are  a double  illustration  of  the  epoch,  for  as  monks  they 
manifest  the  ascetic  ideal  of  the  ecclesiastical  age,  while  as  an  institution,  estab- 
lished to  wrest  the  Sepulchre  from  unbelievers,  they  illustrate  the  crusading 
movement.  Their  destruction  by  Philip  the  Fair  marks  the  close  of  the  crusad- 
ing age  more  truly  than  does  the  fall  of  Acre,  the  last  stronghold  of  the  Chris- 
tians on  the  shore  of  Palestine.  A tradition,  current  for  centuries  and  now 
enshrined  in  literature,  is  the  finest  attestation  of  its  effect  upon  the  popular 
imagination.  Every  year,  on  the  anniversary  night  of  the  abolition  of  the  Order, 
there  issued  an  armed  figure  from  the  Templars’  tomb,  wearing  the  red  cross 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


9 


on  the  white  mantle,  and  crying,  “Who  will  liberate  the  Holy  Sepulchre?” 
And  from  the  vault  the  answer  came,  “No  one!  No  one!  for  the  Temple  is 
destroyed!”* 

The  art  of  the  Middle  Ages  also  enshrines  its  spirit.  Its  architecture  is  the 
sole  form  of  art  not  surpassed  by  the  Renaissance;  and  the  pointed  Gothic  of 
its  grand  cathedrals  is  perhaps  the  best  expression  of  the  soaring  devotional 
spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages.  But  medieval  painting  is  no  less  characteristic.  Its 
forms  are  as  stereotyped  as  the  scholastic  syllogism,  and  it  was  no  less  devoted 
to  the  service  of  the  Church.  An  eighth  century  advocate  of  painting  declared 
at  the  Second  Nicene  Council,  that  “It  is  not  the  invention  of  the  painter  that 
creates  the  picture,  but  an  inviolable  law  of  the  Catholic  Church.  It  is  not  the 
painter,  but  the  Holy  Fathers  who  have  to  invent  and  dictate.  To  them  man- 
ifestly belongs  the  composition,  to  the  painter  only  the  execution.”  “In  the  old 
times,”  says  Ruskin,  “men  used  their  powers  of  painting  to  show  the  objects  of 
faith;  in  later  times  [the  Renaissance]  they  used  the  objects  of  faith  that  they 
might  show  their  powers  of  painting.”  The  change  in  art  declares  the  change  in 
spirit  and  symbolizes  it  unconsciously.  The  whirligig  of  time  brought  its  re- 
venges. 

The  noblest  expression  in  literature  of  the  central  political  conception  of 
the  Middle  Ages — the  theory  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire — is  Dante’s  De 
Monarchia;  its  no  less  perfect  expression  in  art  is  a fresco  in  the  Spanish  Chapel 
of  Santa  Maria  Novella — that  Dominican  church  where  Boccaccio  places  the 
opening  scene  of  his  Decameron.  The  fresco  has  been  described  by  Mr.  Bryce 
in  his  great  classic,  but  since  it  was  my  privilege  to  study  the  original,  I feel 
that  I may  use  my  own  description  for  purposes  of  illustration.  The  subject 
of  the  painting  is  the  ideal  theory  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  symbolizing 
that  cardinal  medieval  idea  of  exact  parallelism  between  heaven  and  earth.  In 
the  center  of  the  fresco  at  the  top  is  Christ,  the  Lamb  of  God;  at  his  right  the 
seraphs,  at  his  left  the  saints,  among  them  Catherine,  conspicuous  with  her  lily. 
Immediately  below  the  saints  is  ranged  the  adoring  multitude  of  the  Church 
f riumphant,  who  have  just  entered  the  heavenly  gate  where  Peter  watches  and 
to  which  Dominic  is  guiding  the  pilgrims  from  the  paths  of  earth.  The  fore- 
ground of  the  fresco  is  the  Duomo  of  Florence  as  originally  planned — its  sole 
memorial — the  type  of  the  Visible  Church.  In  front  of  it,  and  directly  below 
Christ,  sit — exactly  on  the  same  level  and  side  by  side — Christ’s  lieutenants  on 
earth,  the  Pope  and  Emperor:  the  Pope  at  the  left  (as  one  faces  the  fresco) 
with  the  descending  ranks  of  cardinals,  bishops,  doctors  and  the  children  of 
the  church;  at  the  right,  the  Emperor  with  the  king  of  France,  nobles  and 
knights  and  the  humble  vassals  of  the  state.  At  their  feet — the  feet  of  Pope 
and  Emperor — are  sheep  (the  faithful),  attacked  by  raging  wolves  (heretics 


*Ranke,  Franzoesiche  Ceschichte. 


10 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


and  schismatics)  whom  a pack  of  spotted  dogs  (Domini  canes,  hounds  of  the 
Lord)  is  driving  away.  The  interpretation?  Earth  is  the  counterpart  of 
heaven:  as  in  heaven  is  enthroned  Christ,  who  rules  the  saints  and  angels,  and 
receives  obedient  homage  from  the  Church  Triumphant,  so  on  earth  are  en- 
throned the  Lord’s  lieutenants — Pope  and  Emperor — equal  in  their  rights,  who 
rule  the  secular  and  spiritual  branches  of  the  Church  Militant  and  receive  their 
obedient  homage. 

The  Renaissance  was  restricted  neither  to  intellectual  phases  nor  to  a 
single  land.  It  embraced  the  whole  process  of  transition  in  Europe  from  the 
medieval  to  the  modern  order.  It  was  an  age  of  political  revolution  and  transi- 
tion. It  witnessed  the  decline  of  the  Empire,  that  world-monarchy,  and  the 
corresponding  rise  of  modern  nations;  it  saw  the  decline  of  the  Papacy,  that 
world-church,  and  the  corresponding  rise  of  national  churches.  Then,  too, 
began  to  pass  away  the  monopoly  of  Latin,  that  world-tongue,  the  most  appro- 
priate vehicle  of  thought  in  the  days  of  universal  church  and  universal  empire, 
and  correspondingly  vernacular  literatures  began  to  bud  and  blossom.  Strong, 
and  territorially-compact,  monarchies  came  into  self-conscious  and  aggressive 
existence.  It  was  an  age  of  social  and  economic  revolution,  in  which  western 
Europe  passed  from  the  agricultural  and  feudal  stage  to  the  industrial  and  com- 
mercial stage  of  modern  times.  At  the  same  time  the  people  rose  to  power  and 
began  to  overthrow  aristocratic  and  ecclesiastical  supremacy  in  politics  and  to 
destroy  the  clerical  monopoly  of  learning.  Now  began  that  fateful  revolt  of 
laity  against  the  clergy,  which  issued  in  the  Reformation.  The  map  of  the 
world  was  changed  by  Columbus  and  Vasco  da  Gama;  the  chart  of  the  heav- 
ens was  altered  by  Copernicus;  while  by  the  accompanying  intellectual  revolu- 
tion, based  on  the  Revival  of  Antiquity,  and  by  the  succeeding  religious  revolu- 
tion, introduced  by  Martin  Luther,  man  in  seventy  years  received  a new  past  and 
present,  a new  earth,  new  sky  and  sea,  and  even  a new  heaven.  His  body, 
mind  and  soul  responded  to  the  change. 

Intellectually,  the  revival  of  antiquity,  was  the  source  of  the  movement’s 
strength ; and  Humanism  was  the  most  characteristic  and  potent  force  at  work  in 
its  creation.  Roman  influences  were  the  most  accessible;  but  it  was  the  recov- 
ery of  Greek  which  led  directly  to  the  decisive  movement  of  the  Reformation. 
“You  are  an  elegant  Latinist,  Margaret,’’  said  the  learned  Erasmus  to  the 
daughter  of  the  saintly  More,  “but  if  you  would  drink  deeply  of  the  Wellsprings 
of  Wisdom,  apply  to  Greek.  The  Latins  have  only  shallow  rivulets;  the 
Greeks,  copious  rivers  running  over  sands  of  gold.  Read  Plato,  he  wrote  on 
marble  with  a diamond;  but  above  all,  read  the  New  Testament.  ’Tis  the 
Key  to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.’’*  Nowhere  does  the  contrast  between  the 
spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renaissance  appear  more  clearly  than  in  the 


*Sandys,  Harvard  Lectures  on  The  Revival  of  Learning. 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


1 1 

ecclesiastical  and  the  humanistic  treatment  of  the  classics,  and  nowhere  does  the 
, * 

literary  illustration  prove  more  apt.  Imagine,  if  you  please,  St.  Anthony,  pat- 
tern of  asceticism,  revelling  in  Homer  and  burning  with  passion  for  Helen  of 
Troy.  Contrast  with  St.  Anthony,  Marlowe’s  Faust,  the  type  of  the  Renais- 
sance. As  Helen,  escorted  by  Cupids,  crosses  the  stage,  Faust  utters  that  im- 
mortal rhapsody: 

“Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a thousand  ships, 

And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium? 

Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a kiss. 

Her  lips  suck  forth  my  soul:  see  where  it  flees! 

Come,  Helen,  come,  give  me  my  soul  again. 

Here  will  I dwell,  for  Heaven  is  in  these  lips. 

And  all  is  dross  that  is  not  Helena. 

********* 

O thou  art  fairer  than  the  evening  air 
Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a thousand  stars; 

Brighter  art  thou  than  flaming  Jupiter 
When  he  appear’d  to  hapless  Semele; 

More  lovely  than  the  monarch  of  the  sky 
In  wanton  Arethusa’s  azured  arms; 

And  none  but  thou  shalt  be  my  paramour!” 

A second  characteristic  of  the  Renaissance  is  its  note  of  individuality,  of 
personal  independence  in  thought  and  action.  Man  is  no  longer,  as  in  medieval 
times,  part  of  a great  machine  for  ecclesiastical,  social  or  political  uses,  without 
self-confidence  or  self-appreciation,  living  a hard  and  narrow  life  in  the  omni- 
present fear  of  death — the  man  of  the  Hora  Novissima  or  of  the  Dies  Irae. 
The  modern  man  is  intensely  individualistic.  The  architect  of  his  own  fortune, 
he  thirsts  for  fame  and  glory — a desire  which  is  distinctly  a modern  emotion 
and  spring  of  action.  In  Petrarch’s  Dialogue,  “His  Secret,”  St.  Augustine 
(medieval  spokesman)  declares  that  Petrarch’s  love  for  a woman,  together 
with  his  longing  for  fame,  are  the  two  most  conspicuous  failings  of  the  poet, 
barring  his  way  to  a higher  life.  “What  have  I done  to  you,”  indignantly  says 
Petrarch,*  “That  you  should  deprive  me  of  my  most  splendid  preoccupations 
and  condemn  to  eternal  darkness  the  brightest  part  of  my  soul?”  Exemplifica- 
tions of  this  spirit  abound  in  the  literature  of  the  Italian  and  English  Renais- 
sance. Dante,  “in  whom  the  first  faint  glimmer  of  the  dawning  Renaissance 


^Robinson  and  Rolfe,  Petrarch. 


12 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


began  to  shine,”  allots  a separate  star  to  those  who  strive  nobly  to  excel.  Of 
Mercury  he  writes: 


‘‘This  little  planet  doth  adorn  itself 

With  the  good  spirits  that  have  active  been 

That  fame  and  honor  might  come  after  them.” 


And  again: 

“ ‘Now  it  behooves  thee  thus  to  put  off  sloth,’ 

My  master  said;  ‘for  sitting  upon  down 
Or  under  quilt,  one  cometh  not  to  fame. 

Withouten  which  whoso  his  life  consumes 
Such  vestige  leaveth  of  himself  on  earth 
As  smoke  in  air  or  in  the  water  foam.’  ” 

Milton,  in  the  zenith  of  the  English  Renaissance,  repeats  the  note  in 
Lycidas : 


‘‘Fame  is  the  breath  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise 
(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds) 

To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days.” 

And  the  same  strain  is  repeated  with  a dying  fall  in  the  epitaph  of  Keats: 
‘‘Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in  water.”  This  is  an  illustration  of  the 
melancholy  which  is  the  counterpart  of  the  thirst  for  fame,  in  view  of  the  in- 
evitable disproportion  between  efforts  and  results.  It,  too,  is  a mark  of  the 
Renaissance;  Petrarch  had  it  in  large  measure. 

Another  characteristic  is  the  development  of  rationalism,  the  evolution  of 
a critical  spirit  and  method.  The  Renaissance  thus  had  its  scientific  side, 
and  furnished  the  substructure  of  modern  material  and  intellectual  life.  The 
combined  use  of  reason  and  freedom  has  been  the  guarantee  of  progress. 

During  the  Middle  Ages,  ‘‘man  had  lived  enveloped  in  a cowl.”  His 
hopes  and  fears  were  fixed  upon  the  life  hereafter.  The  ascetic  ideal  unduly 
sacrificed  the  present  to  the  future.  With  the  regained  knowledge  of  antiquity, 
a change  came  in. 


‘‘Fresh  with  the  youth  of  the  world.” 

The  fourth  gift  of  the  Renaissance  to  man  was  an  appreciation  of  the  beauty 
and  comeliness,  the  value  and  uses  of  the  present  life.  Hence  the  freshness 
of  the  period,  its  joyousness,  its  renewal  of  the  springtide  of  life.  In  Italy,  the 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


13 


reaction,  carried  too  far,  produced  the  darker,  pagan,  non-moral  side  of  the 
movement.  Boccaccio’s  Decameron,  frank  and  free,  reveals  both  side  of  life: 
the  fairness  of  the  face  of  nature,  the  unbounded  sensuality  of  an  age  destitute 
of  moral  standards.  So,  too,  the  Carnival  Songs  of  Lorenzo,  cynical,  Hora- 
tian : 


“Fair  is  youth  and  void  of  sorrow; 

But  it  hourly  flies  away. 

Y ouths  and  maids,  enjoy  today ; 

Nought  ye  know  about  tomorrow. 

This  is  Bacchus  and  the  bright 
Ariadne,  lovers  true! 

They,  in  flying  time’s  despite. 

Each  with  each  find  pleasure  new; 

These  their  nymphs,  and  all  their  crew 
Keep  perpetual  holiday. 

Youths  and  maids,  enjoy  today; 

Nought  ye  know  about  tomorrow. 

The  highest  ideal  of  the  Humanist,  the  goal  of  the  movement  of  which 
he  was  a part,  was  culture — the  right  of  the  individual  man  to  the  full  and  free 
development  of  all  his  powers.  Its  spirit  is  gloriously  manifested  in  its  reverence 
for  literature.  “Books  have  perished,”  is  Petrarch’s  lament: 

“This  age  of  ours  consequently  has  let  fall,  bit  by  bit,  some  of  the  richest 
and  sweetest  fruits  that  the  tree  of  knowledge  has  yielded;  has  thrown  away 
the  results  of  the  vigils  and  labors  of  the  most  illustrious  men  of  genius,  things 
of  more  value,  I am  tempted  to  say,  than  anything  else  in  the  whole  world.” 

Here  is  the  germ  of  thought  which  develops  into  Milton’s  golden  saying, 
dear  to  the  scholar’s  heart: 

“Books  are  not  absolutely  dead  things,  but  do  contain  a potency  of  life 
in  them  to  be  as  active  as  that  soul  was  whose  progeny  they  are;  nay,  they  do 
preserve  as  in  a vial  the  purest  efficacy  and  extraction  of  that  living  intellect 
that  bred  them.  * * * as  good  almost  kill  a man  as  kill  a good  book ; who 

kills  a man  kills  a reasonable  creature,  God’s  image ; but  he  who  destroys  a good 
book,  kills  reason  itself.  * * * a good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a 

master  spirit,  imbalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a life  beyond  life.” 

The  hardest  knowledge  to  acquire  is  self-knowledge.  It  begins  with  the 
consciousness  of  our  separate  existence  and  of  our  individual  powers.  It  con- 
tinues with  the  realization  of  individual  ends  to  be  reached  and  individual  ideals 
to  be  attained — which  is  culture.  The  process  culminates  in  the  realization  of 
our  individual  responsibility  and  the  consequent  formation  of  a religious  ideal. 


14 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


So  through  the  secular  byways  of  the  Renaissance  man  passed  along  until  he 
found  himself  confronted  by  what  Charles  Kingsley  calls  the  problem  of  the 
ages:  “Given  self,  to  find  God.”  This  is  the  true  relation  of  Renaissance  to 
Reformation. 

In  Italy  this  point  was  not  reached  and  the  movement  remained  non 
moral.  Aesthetic  interests  dwarfed  the  religious  and  the  Renaissance  flowered 
in  art.  The  Papacy  is  the  characteristic  institution  of  the  epoch.  In  accord- 
ance with  the  spirit  of  the  age  its  religious  activities  were  temporarily  obscured 
and  secular  aims  prevailed.  It  is  the  era  of  the  Borgia  popes,  the  time  of  the 
reconstruction  of  papal  temporal  monarchy  and  the  reorganization  of  the  papal 
states.  By  lavish  patronage  of  arts  and  letters  the  heads  of  the  Church  strove 
to  achieve  an  intellectual  and  aesthetic  primacy  in  Europe.  Julius  II.  is  the 
typical  pope  of  the  period.  Reigning  before  the  Reformation,  he  was  the 
fast  pontiff  to  rule  the  undivided  church  with  power  unbroken,  half-temporal, 
half-spiritual.  A magnificent  patron  of  art,  his  memory  is  indissolubly  linked 
with  the  undying  names  of  Bramante,  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael.  Warrior 
and  politician,  he  was  the  founder  of  the  modern  papal  states.  The  expansion 
of  the  domains  of  the  Church  and  the  expulsion  of  foreigners  from  Italy  were 
his  chief  political  aims.  At  the  zenith  of  his  power,  two  great  leagues,  opposing 
thunder-clouds,  confronted  each  other  in  Italy.  The  one  was  headed  by  the 
foreign  invader,  Louis  XII.  of  France — its  unhallowed  aim,  the  conquest  of 
Italian  soil;  the  other  was  a League  called  Holy,  and  its  soul  was  Julius  II. 
The  noblest  expression  of  his  hopes — its  official  expression — is  Raphael’s  con- 
temporary fresco,  the  Room  of  Heliodorus  in  the  Vatican.  The  subject  is 
drawn  from  the  Second  Book  of  the  Maccabees.  Heliodorus,  a robber,  has 
seized  and  looted  the  Temple.  In  the  background  kneels  Onias,  the  High 
Priest,  before  the  altar,  and  prays  for  deliverance.  In  the  foreground  at  the 
left,  Julius  II.  is  being  borne  into  the  Temple,  while  before  him,  foreground  to 
the  right,  a horseman  in  armor,  wielding  a mace  and  assisted  by  two  angels, 
has  overthrown  Heliodorus.  The  interpretation?  Heliodorus,  the  robber,  is 
the  King  of  France;  Julius  II.  is  the  divinely-appointed  saviour  of  Italy.  Sculp- 
ture embodies  a similar  conception.  Michael  Angelo’s  Moses,  on  the  pontiff’s 
tomb,  is  Julius  II.,  leading  the  Italian  people  from  a state  of  bondage  to  a 
freer  promised  land.  Painting  and  statue  do  homage  to  the  patriot;  literature, 
in  Michael  Angelo’s  “Sonnet  on  Rome  in  the  Pontificate  of  Julius  II.,”  censures 
the  moral  taint  which  lurks  behind  the  splendors  of  artistic  patronage  and  polit- 
ical success — the  subordination  of  spiritual  to  earthly  interests.  In  bitterness  of 
soul  the  poet  writes : 

“Here  helms  and  swords  are  made  of  chalices: 

The  blood  of  Christ  is  sold  so  much  the  quart: 

His  cross  and  thorns  are  spears  and  shields : and  short 


Histor))  and  the  Fine  Arts 


15 


Must  be  the  time  ere  even  his  patience  cease. 
***¥***¥# 

Now  were  fit  time  for  me  to  scrape  a treasure! 

Seeing  that  work  and  gain  are  gone;  while  he 
Who  wears  the  robe,  is  my  Medusa  still! 

God  welcomes  poverty  perchance  with  pleasure: 

But  of  that  better  life  what  hope  have  we 
When  the  blessed  banner  leads  to  nought  but  ill?” 

Here  is  indeed  a Sonnet,  a contribution  alike  to  literature  and  art,  religion, 
biography  and  history. 

The  period  of  spiritual  stagnation  which  accompanied  the  Renaissance  in 
Italy  and  whose  results  the  poet  so  feelingly  described,  was  followed  in  the 
sixteenth  century  by  a determined  effort  on  the  part  of  the  Church  to  regain 
its  spiritual  vigor  and  to  recover  its  pre-Reformatory  power  and  prestige.  By 
the  decrees  of  Trent  its  power  of  resistance  was  regained;  a new  spirit  of  ear- 
nestness, depth,  enthusiasm  had  been  generated,  and  lukewarmness  transformed 
into  zeal.  A period  of  religious  chivalry  ensued.  It  is  the  age,  in  literature, 
of  Tasso  and  Ariosto,  the  age  of  the  knightly  romance.  This  literary  tendency 
becomes  united  with  the  religious  movement.  Loyola  passed  from  the  legends 
of  Amadis  of  Gaul  to  those  of  St.  Francis,  becoming  in  turn  knight  of  Mary 
and  champion  of  Christ.  The  institution  which  best  illustrates  the  chivalrous 
spirit  of  the  new  religious  age  is  the  Company  of  Jesus.  The  same  all-con- 
quering spirit  of  romanticism  is  revealed  in  painting.  Classic  repose  and  mere 
beauty  of  form  ceases  to  satisfy;  passion  is  demanded,  and  religious  sentiment; 
ert  once  more  returns  to  the  service  of  the  Church.  It  is  the  day  of  Guido  Reni. 
The  transference  of  the  chivalric  ideal  to  the  Church  is  shown  most  vividly 
perhaps  by  the  association  of  the  music  of  the  age  with  the  great  religious 
movement.  During  the  preceding  period,  church-music  had  degenerated.  Its 
primary  religious  purpose  was  disregarded  in  favor  of  the  claims  of  mere  pro- 
fessional technique;  themes  were  borrowed  from  vulgar  tunes  such  as  were 
sung  in  taverns;  the  words  were  unintelligible;  and  there  was  no  devotion  in  it. 
Under  these  circumstances  a Committee  was  appointed  by  the  Council  of 
T rent,  and  music  put  on  trial  for  its  life.  The  matter  finally  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  great  composer  John  of  Palestrina.*  He  was  ordered  to  produce 
a trial-piece,  which  should  satisfy  both  the  spiritual  and  artistic  requirements 
cf  the  Congregation  of  Reform:  otherwise,  he  was  told,  the  Congregation  would 
disband  the  choral  establishments  of  the  Church  and  forbid  the  current  music. 
In  a word,  he  must  create  a new  species,  or  the  art  of  ecclesiastical  music  would 
become  extinct.  Under  the  double  pressure  of  artistic  devotion  and  religious 


*Symonds,  Renaissance  in  Italy. 


16 


History  and  the  Fine  Arts 


zeal,  he  wrote  the  celebrated  mass  of  Pope  Marcellus.  It  was  the  critical 
moment  in  the  history  of  music:  Palestrina  created  a new  style,  became  the 
Savior  of  Church  Music,  and  justly  won  his  title  “ Princeps  Musicae."  His 
auditors  were  roused  to  emotions  of  rapture;  and  Pius  IV.  exclaimed,  “Of 
such  nature  must  have  been  the  harmonies  of  the  new  song  heard  by  John  the 
Apostle  in  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  another  John  has  given  us  a taste  of 
them  in  the  Jerusalem  of  the  Church-militant.”  Palestrina’s  music  will  eve* 
remain  the  fairest  type  of  the  pure  religious  spirit  of  the  Catholic  Reformation, 
untainted  by  political  ambitions,  unstained  by  persecution. 

It  is  not  only  in  the  service  of  the  mighty,  kings  and  pontiffs,  that  art  per- 
forms its  wonders;  it  may  be  the  mute  but  eloquent  witness  of  civic  virtue,  at 
once  the  inspiration  and  reward  of  local  pride  and  patriotism.  To  the  pilgrim 
of  art,  Florence  is  a Holy  Land.  In  the  days  of  the  Renaissance,  the  fair  city 
“seated  beside  the  Arno’s  stream,”  honored  her  artists  and  they  in  return  have 
immortalized  her  by  works  in  marble  and  imperishable  brass.  No  more  ex- 
alted witness  of  civic  aspiration  exists  than  the  commission  issued  in  1 294  to 
Arnolfo  del  Cambio  by  the  Commune  of  Florence.  “Since  the  highest  mark  of 
prudence  in  a people  of  noble  origin  is  to  proceed  in  the  management  of  their 
affairs  so  that  their  magnanimity  and  wisdom  may  be  evinced  in  their  outward 
acts,  we  order  Arnolfo,  head  master  of  our  Commune,  to  make  a design  for 
the  renovation  of  Santa  Reparata  in  a style  of  magnificence  which  neither  the 
industry  nor  the  power  of  man  can  surpass,  that  it  may  harmonize  with  the 
opinion  of  many  wise  persons  in  this  city  and  state,  who  think  that  this  Com- 
mune should  not  engage  in  any  enterprise  unless  its  intention  be  to  make  the 
result  correspond  with  that  noblest  sort  of  heart  which  is  composed  of  the  united 
will  of  many  citizens.”  An  utterance  worthy  of  the  city  destined  to  become 
the  seat  of  the  most  brilliant  culture  seen  in  the  world  since  the  days  of  Peri- 
clean  Athens!  A spirit  whose  external  symbols  are  splendid  buildings,  spacious 
libraries,  and  wondrous  art-collections!  An  inspiration,  worthy  of  all  emula- 
tion, which  we  here  should  cherish  in  the  youthful  vigor  of  our  city  by  the 
Sound  where  the  fairest  fruitage  of  the  civilizations  of  all  climes  may  mingle  and 
abide;  an  ideal  which  we,  the  citizens  of  no  mean  city,  should  pursue  and 
which  our  several  institutions,  already  founded  in  the  love  of  art  and  culture, 
are  striving  to  attain! 

Oliver  Huntington  Richardson. 


From  the  Press  of  the 
DEPARTMENT  OF  JOURNALISM 
UNIVERSITY  OF  WASHINGTON 


